


bury your flames

by m0ette



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0ette/pseuds/m0ette
Summary: The skies above Seoul have been troubled for far too long. It's time for Johnny to bring the Sun back where it belongs.





	1. come, hell or high water

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe I'm doing this, but here goes nothing.
> 
> I've been dreaming of this AU for months (well over a year if we're being honest), so this is complete self-indulgence before it is anything else.
> 
> The magic system and the general concept was borrowed from _KHR!_ and as such, can be considered niche - that's why I incorporated bits and pieces of the worldbuilding exposition into the fic itself for those unfamiliar with canon but willing to give this fic a shot.
> 
> The tags may be updated, the rating will definitely go up.
> 
> This is going to be a long and painful ride, so buckle up! I hope you enjoy!

Doyoung never calls from the same number twice, but Johnny knows it’s him because only his calls come through in the most inopportune of moments. He takes a deep breath, sets the rifle aside, and answers the call.

"Hi.” It is Doyoung, of course.

"Anything important?" Johnny asks directly, not bothering with the pleasantries - after all, distraction on a mission like this is not only bad manners, it’s also a bad omen. He keeps an eye on his target, looking no bigger than an ant from this distance without the telescopic sight, but the girl doesn’t seem to move, still enjoying her hot bath and her busty companion, blissfully unaware of the careful watch they’re under.

Johnny hopes Doyoung will understand that his timing is way off by the curt way the reply sounds, but instead of politely asking if he should call sometime later, Doyoung speaks naturally, as if ignoring the fact that Johnny is in the middle of a mission on purpose. "Yes. _Neo Seoul_ , main conference room, ten o'clock sharp."

No "please", no "thank you". Doyoung has always been a straightforward, cut to the chase kind of guy - he knew that much, and yet he didn't hang up on Johnny, as if waiting for him to object.

Maybe it’s because Doyoung expects him to, maybe it’s because he too misses the banter, but Johnny indulges him. “Are you aware that I’m in Japan?”

“Why yes, I bought your tickets.”

Johnny can picture Doyoung’s raised eyebrows in great detail, mocking confusion settling deep into his sharp features, and the distance between them seems to only amplify the effect it has on him instead of lessening it.

“Then you know I’m not supposed to come back until Tuesday.”

Red and hot, Johnny feels the irritation rise in him, but the waves of his _Rain_ are quick to rush over before it can spread - invisible to the naked eye, cool to the touch, their soothing foam willing Johnny to calm down. He obeys. It’s impossible not to, and it’s the effect Johnny’s become addicted to, secretly seeking confrontation for a quick fix of artificial tranquility.

Now that he thinks of it, maybe Doyoung knows.

“We still aren’t finished with the Minatozaki here - by the way, I still have her at gunpoint, and you’re being kind of a nuisance, - and then Seulgi and I have some catching up to do. See you on Tuesday, Doyoung.”

Doyoung doesn’t give Johnny the time to hang up. There’s no amusement in his tone when he speaks, and Johnny feels the _Lightning_ zap through his rainy skies agitating the peace anew. “Hey, Johnny, listen to me. Do what you have with the Minatozaki and catch the first flight back,” he says, but it’s the words that follow that worry Johnny the most. “Taeyong needs you.”

It’s a manipulation tactic Doyoung often uses with Johnny because he knows it works. It works every time.

Johnny curses under his breath and gives in. “Then I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No,” Doyoung’s smug smirk is audible, “you don’t. See you tonight.”

And with that, the connection is lost.

When Minatozaki gets up, no clothes or towel to cover her nudity, Johnny pushes himself forward, burying the bipod into the old withered grass down the slope, and takes an aim. In a single well-practiced movement the stock snaps comfortably against the pocket of his shoulder, firm and secure, and Johnny relaxes, closing his eyes. Breathes in, out, in again, until the cold of his _Flame_ rises up, bit by bit filling Johnny up with familiar calmness. His legs, back, shoulders, neck, all align with the rifle before him, one straight line from beginning to the end.

And when he opens his eyes again, there’s no naked woman in his sight anymore - she’s his target now, caught in the crosshairs of the scope.

Johnny breathes out slowly, in, out again, and holds it in, frozen on the spot. The _Rain_ rushes into the empty cartridge and solidifies under his command, obedient and ready to be used.

 _Freeze,_ Johnny orders and pulls the trigger.

Minatozaki stops as if having heard him; she stays there for two endless seconds before her body gives in, and then she sinks down heavily, limbs stiff and unmoving. Her companion - Jihyo, if Johnny remembers correctly - screams in terror when she sees her motionless body on the cold tiled floor, but Sana doesn’t look at her anymore - her eyes close with the imposed magical serenity.

Still, her chest rises and falls all the same. Johnny can see the _Sun_ battle his _Rain_ within her: the bright yellow light envelops the bullet, gnawing at it violently bit by bit, but it’s slow, too slow - six hours, five if she’s lucky. By the time she regains consciousness Seulgi would’ve already left Osaka with Sana’s - no, it’s theirs by right - box, and Johnny would be meeting Taeyong hundreds of miles away from here.

Johnny knows Minatozaki has seen him - Activation be damned, who knew she would use it for her sight, of all things?! - but there’s no place for panic within him: he didn’t kill her, he didn’t even injure her in any way - and he could, by the rules of the game they were playing he even had the right to. They are lucky it wasn’t Yuta with his bloody Flames craving more blood or Doyoung who would do anything to punish those who went against the _Alliance_ and dared to take something from them. They are lucky it was Johnny - the woman will live to tell the tale of a bullet coming through her chest with no scar to back the story up, and maybe she will be careful the next time as to not get shot with lead instead of a couple hours of beauty sleep.

Johnny’s watch blinks once, twice and then stills on a gentle yellow glow signaling him that Seulgi is done. If only she was a little bit faster Sana could’ve escaped the bruises she inevitably got from falling, and her partner could’ve been spared the emotional distress of the prospect of Sana dying and potential confusion about the nature of the Flames - if Sana ever comes clean to her about her true nature of an assassin, that is.

 

Seulgi is waiting for him on the other side of the hill in her brand new hatchback Toyota - it was the first thing she’s bought since the _Redmare_ moved to Japan, despising the pretentious company cars they have always been given back in Seoul and opting for a more practical and completely impersonal vehicle now that she actually had an option to choose. She looks pleased - if not with the turnout of the mission, which took the turn for the worse with Johnny having to resort to shooting, then at least with seeing him now after almost a year of not being able to meet.

“So, the catching up is canceled, huh,” she greets him, turning the radio off right before Johnny’s favorite part in the _Power Up_ song he’s been obsessed with recently. “Yongie has already texted me.”

Johnny isn’t even surprised. The word, after all, travels fast, especially in their field. Of course, Taeyong has already told her Johnny won’t be able to make it. “I’m sorry, noona.”

Seulgi only laughs at him, waving her hand dismissively. “I get it, ‘s alright. _Family_ first and all that.”

Johnny doesn’t want to talk about the issue longer than absolutely necessary to address it, and Seulgi isn’t the kind of person to mind the informal conversation, but he can’t help himself. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re done with whatever it is Taeyong needs me for,” he says, and feels even worse because he’s genuinely missed her and the years they spend in training together, young and still free.

“Take your _Sky_ boyfriend with you,” Seulgi smirks, unaffected. “I’ve seen him last Wednesday when Irene and I came to negotiate the price of the firearms the Chinese sent through our _Externals_. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Knowing him, I wouldn’t be really surprised if he hadn’t.”

Johnny looks away from her at the quiet waters of Yodogawa below them, smoldering with the last rays of the setting sun. “Taeyong and I… We’re not dating.” _Not anymore_ , he almost says, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s at least somewhat right: this is the kind of information nobody has to know, not even the dearly beloved but nosy older sisters.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

After they pass the bridge, the colorful variety of the evening Osaka scenery quickly changes to parks, baseball fields, and golf driving ranges, but it’s not until the comfortable silence of their car becomes eerie in the boring monotony of the typical two-story Japanese houses and empty railroads around them that Johnny realizes he doesn’t know where they are or where they are headed towards.

“Noona,” he tries quietly, scared to show his nervousness in front of Seulgi. He understands that it’s irrational but can’t help himself - even though she has never given him any reasons to doubt her allegiance to their Alliance, the last year has taught Johnny to be careful and vigilant at all times, and now he was anything but. “Isn’t Kansai International to the far South of the Kamigata onsen?”

Seulgi makes a turn for the left and stops, the traffic lights washing over her with a vivid, all-consuming red. She looks away from the road and turns to Johnny, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Then, the realization hits her. “We are visiting the _Blue Moon_ , you giant baby,” Seulgi says, the teasing grin making her look like a plush bear, and Johnny immediately feels bad for thinking ill of her, even if for a short moment. “Yerimie and I have been staying with them for the mission. They were so kind as to promise to arrange a charter for you since there are no more Seoul bound flights tonight. Good call though, how d’you know the city so well?”

“Our _Storm_ is from around here,” Johnny lets out reluctantly, still ashamed he let the fear get to him but happy to let the topic drop nonetheless, “so I’ve been here a couple of times before. It’s actually really weird being here without him.”

“Oh, Yuta-kun?” The light turns to a much more forgiving green and Seulgi takes off slowly, maintaining pedestrian speed. She looks to the navigator on the dashboard, then outside again, squinting at the street signs. “Makes sense.”

The signs do little to hint Johnny on their whereabouts. Having Yuta on the team made all of them lazy, so nobody - besides maybe Taeyong - knew any Japanese outside of the foreign-friendly katakana, which proved to be completely useless once Johnny found himself far away from the crowded tourist spots. “We haven’t been here since both of his sisters were ambushed by the _Seven Birds_.”

The rings on Seulgi’s right hand flare up with primary colors before she manages to get her anger under control, but the Flame dances in her eyes long after she puts it out. She is terrifying and yet so, so breathtaking. “I’m sorry,” is all she says in the end.

Johnny thinks back to the first time he’s met Momoka and Haruna, both so similar to their brother - fiery and outspoken, with _Storm_ raging under their skin, waiting to present itself. It’ll take more than a snake with his minion to break this spirit. “It’s fine, don’t be. They are alive, after all: Soonkyu-noona’s doing everything she can to get them back to their feet.”

It’s fine. Even though all of the Birds are still out there, roaming free.

“Is that so?” Seulgi gives him a short, tight-lipped smile. “Glad to hear that.”

She turns to the left two blocks later and parks the car right around the corner. The headlights reveal a colorful storefront of what looks like a vintage records shop for a split second before Seulgi switches the engine off and the darkness, liquid and viscous, washes over them.  She doesn’t move just yet - Johnny can’t see her, but he still recognizes the pulsating signatures of the _Dying Will_ in her hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Say, Johnny,” Seulgi speaks finally, and Johnny senses the conversation shift to the very edge of anxiety. “You know you can always rely on me, right?”

 _It really affected her, huh,_ Johnny thinks, shame rising in him once again.

“I know,” is what he says in the end, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.

Seulgi reaches for Johnny’s hand and squeezes it lightly. Her palm is soft and warm, but the metal of her _Guardian Rings_ burns him with freezing cold. The contrast is somehow comforting.

“Good. Now, let’s get going.”

They step out onto the paved driveway to the store - Seulgi leads them forward and around the building through a narrow alley, navigating in the dark with ease, though Johnny doesn’t seem to get used to it. It’s only when she ignites the golden _Sun_ Flames in her hands that he recognizes the magic of the _Mist_ for what it is - the purple fog that was dulling their senses surrenders and dissipates, allowing them to see the door it’s been hiding.

The door looks like any other regular door, and Johnny feels a sudden pang of disappointment - after all of the technological advancement in arms and defense their Alliance has made in the recent years he doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s not this. Seulgi, however, seems unfazed by the simplicity of it, and feeds her Flame to the peephole easily, gesturing then for Johnny to do the same.

The _Rain_ comes before he can as much as call for it. The blue of it, gentle and soothing, clings to his hand; Johnny’s missed it too - it’s been so long since he’s last used it directly and not through a gun or a rifle, but he lets it go because he has to, and the darkness swallows them up faster now that it’s seen their light.

Johnny feels claustrophobic. “Now what?”

He can’t see Seulgi roll her eyes, but he can picture it in detail. “Now we wait.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t take too long, and Johnny is grateful for that. The door opens with a gentle metal squeak and the darkness yields before Key, who comes forward, the _Mist_ no longer surrounding them but trailing behind him like a loyal dog - now that he’s free from the spell, Johnny feels the cold humidity of it fill his lungs with the smell of morning mountains.

“Seulgi,” Key bows slightly, and then turns to Johnny, “Youngho.”

His eyes scan Johnny impassively, and Johnny feels so small under that gaze even though he has good five inches on Key. He bows low and stays there until Key touches his cheek lightly, ordering him to stand up.

Johnny has never seen Key this up close before, and now that he does he can finally understand what that imposing aura of a _Mist_ Guardian everyone talks about really is. Key is nothing like the mild Jaehyun who looks up to Johnny in everything and would never even think of using his powers against him; he’s also nothing like the tricksy Yerim who grew up before his eyes and couldn’t fool him if she tried. He’s on another level, and the prospect of not knowing what to expect from him scares Johnny, but excites him even more. The fact that Key’s probably the most handsome man Johnny has ever seen doesn’t really help his case either.

“You’ll have to surround yourselves with your primary Flame,” Key instructs them, and Seulgi shifts beside Johnny, turning her _Storm_ and _Rain_ rings around to close them in her palm. “The base knows your signatures already, and Minho’s cleared you for entrance, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Key waits for them to do as told and nods, satisfied. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

Even though there’s nothing visibly obstructing the entrance, the air in the corridor is dense, and stepping forward feels like trying to force your way through the thick clear dough. Johnny doesn’t register the change until he breathes in a lungful of it and can’t breathe out anymore, his every next step requiring more and more effort. He’s lost sight of Seulgi and Key, now replaced by colorful circles and waves helpfully supplied by his oxygen-starved brain. Still, Johnny trudges through it, tearing the gelatine air apart on autopilot and trying to ease his way into the opening before it closes around him with the suffocating vacuum again.

Maybe it’s for the better that Johnny can’t even form a single coherent thought to fully understand he’s fainting: it’s in this moment, so close to dying, that the _Dying Will_ is the strongest - the Flames, once calm and cool around him, set the barrier ablaze; it tears and shrivels, now very much visible and very much defeated.

Johnny gasps, finally taking short choked up breaths in, hungry for the fresh air. Seulgi’s strong hands pull him up back to his feet, straining to hold him upright, and Johnny comes to his senses slowly, as if after the longest sleep.

“It gets easier the more you go through it,” Seulgi offers, sounding sympathetic only in the very loose definition of the word, “you did well.”

It feels like they are back at _School_ all over again. It’s a lie Johnny has heard from her many times before, but it’s one he can appreciate.

When they turn around, Key is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there are two poodles standing further down the hallway, heads tilted to the side, exactly mirroring their master.

Seulgi comes forward and takes both leashes from the dogs’ mouths, holding one out for Johnny to take. “Apparently, Key decided it’s better for you to have the help of a guide,” she snickers, but Johnny doesn’t bother with a reply - after what he’s experienced not even five minutes ago, he’ll take any help he could get.

The rough burlap of the leash is a contrasting warmth against his cold and clammy hand, and it feels strangely reassuring. The _Mist_ crawls up the cord and spreads over Johnny’s _Rain_ cover slowly, but it doesn’t attack - rather reinforces what’s already there. The dog’s waiting patiently, its vacant purple eyes trained on Johnny, and only takes off when he nods, ready to go.

The corridor is long, making an unexpected turn to the left every time Johnny mentally checks out of the monotonous walk. The base goes far down underground, much farther than their base in Seoul does, but the very apparent slant never turns into a stair, and walking like this becomes tiring very quickly. It takes time - thankfully, no more invisible barriers trying to squeeze the last breath out of Johnny - to reach the end of the downward spiral, and Key’s _Mist_ dogs swiftly guide them through a series of identical doors before they wind up in a much bigger room, with a leveled floor and a well lived-in feel.

Now that Johnny has the chance to take a good look at the hideout from within, it really feels like an extension of the record store it’s built under, starting with the dim lighting and the off-red Saxony carpeting Johnny’s seen countless times back in the States all the way to the vinyl framed and hung on the walls - not brand new but well cared for, all with extensive handwritten notes, most of them signed. Whoever has decorated this place, must’ve been very passionate about music.

The dogs disappear - and the haze of _Mist_ around Johnny disappears, too, taking his _Rain_ cover with it.

Key looks at Johnny, clearly amused. He sits at a small pentagon table in the middle of the room and watches them intently, playing with a tiny box, clinking it to the wineglass in his other hand absentmindedly, turning it around and around - purple fog blurs its edges, fading away bit by bit and letting the metal ornament shine through in the dull light, and when Johnny finally connects the dots he can’t help a surprised gasp: he’s thought the dogs to be a part of an illusion running this place and made his peace with it, but they were a pair of twin box animals which was as expensive as it was rare. It also took a colossal amount of power to wield the two of them at once, but clearly, power was never an issue when it came to the Blue Moon.

“They haven’t tasted any new Flames in a long, long time. Hope you don’t mind giving them this little treat.”

Johnny doesn’t, and even if he did - the damage has already been done. He feels light-headed, reeling from the exhaustion of the long day he’s had and the mere thought of going back to Korea - he just wants to be done with it already, tired of the cryptic _Mist_ games.

“Come on, sit down,” Key takes a sip of his drink and gestures with it to the chair beside him. Johnny takes him up on the offer but sits down to his left, afraid of the implications of being at his right hand.

If Key understands it, he doesn’t say anything, for which Johnny is grateful. Instead, he snaps his box into the slot on his belt and takes out another one - more golden than the standard _Sun_ yellow, scattering reflected rainbows all over the tabletop.

Seulgi flinches as if hurt and jumps up, checking the pockets of her red uniform coat frantically, and then freezes, her gaze on Key again.

“You’re lucky we’re playing for the same team, kids,” he laughs, but sets the box onto the center of the table and pushes it towards them for a closer inspection.

Johnny doesn’t really know a whole lot about the box weapons, only the basic stuff - after all, they’ve got the scarily talented tech master in Kun, and the Redmare girls who specialized in the production of the unconventional weapons are always just a phone call away. Now, faced with the weapon he assisted in stealing ( _It’s not stealing when it belonged to us in the first place,_ he chastises himself), he doesn’t know what valuable input he can bring to the table in a conversation of professionals.

Luckily, Key doesn’t expect him to talk. “While you were loitering behind, I’ve already sent an impression of the box to Luna,” he tells them, projecting the pictures of the conversations he’s had with Luna directly onto the table - regular table, just a bit enhanced with his magic. “As you can see, she confirmed it to be the _Innocenti’s_ original we were looking for, so that’s a win. Good job.”

The praise gets to Johnny quickly, even though most of the work this time was on Seulgi. It’s just that you don’t often get praised by the people you’ve admired for so long.

Seulgi, however, is concerned with other things he’s said. “Luna? Why?” She asks, and by the tone of her voice Johnny understands: it has nothing to do with Luna personally. Rather, there’s something else to the worry in her frown. “Sunbaenim, where is Yerimie?”

The questions don’t faze Key. He remains calm, even despite Seulgi’s pointed tone. “Taeyeon came by earlier today and took her out to the shooting ranges,” he explains flatly, never raising his voice and sounding that much more threatening because of that. “Can we please get to the fucking matter at hand already?”

The silence that settles after that isn’t complete - there’s music playing somewhere, probably one of the vinyl from the store collection, and the singer tells - in blessed Korean - a beautiful story about flower petals, transparent under the heavy raindrops. His own _Rain_ roars in Johnny’s ears, responsive to the call, and it takes all of his remaining powers to will it into quiet.

“It… The box was supposed to be a present for him,” Key says, finally revealing the real importance behind it. “But there’s no use for it now.”

He mentions the death of their _Sun_ without any flashy theatrics or the ostensible suffering that usually accompany the passing of someone, so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal. His tone, even and steady, gives Johnny chills.

Key doesn’t let them dwell on it for long. “Even though there is no external ornament on the outside to indicate the type of the box it is,” he takes the box into his hands again and turns it around, catching the light with its smooth sides, as if trying to illustrate his point, “Luna said there’s a fox inside, which means...”

Johnny hears himself speak before he can think better of it - his throat is scratchy and the voice comes out coarse after being silent for so long. “Which means you’ll have to find a master for the fox.”

 _Because the animal dies without its master,_ everyone knows this. Unconventional Weapons 101.

“Correct,” Key nods. He doesn’t seem to mind Johnny’s interruption. “The word, as you know, travels fast - _Teacher_ knows already. He gave Jinki-hyung the power to do as he pleases, and hyung left it to me, so… Here we are.”

“I’m not compatible with it,” Seulgi murmurs, her gaze unblinking on the box. “I’ve tried as soon as I got it.”

Key seems more entertained with this confession than she was probably expecting. “Overstepping your boundaries?” He smirks. “Brave.”

“You’d do the same,” Seulgi bites back. “I’ve been in the business for four years already, and I am yet to find a companion.”

Johnny’s never seen her like this - always happy, always smiling, always confident - she played in defense now, trying to protect all the weak spots in her carefully constructed armor.

“Chill. I’m not giving anyone away,” Key smiles, but what he says next doesn’t feel like a joke at all - and Johnny wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t. “Unless there’s anything in it for me, of course. Is there?”

Seulgi purses her lips together, not too keen on the idea of giving Key any more reasons to laugh at her.

Satisfied with her silence, Key continues. “I wanted to let the girls have it, but Amber already has Jack-Jack, and Luna refuses to let a living animal just collect dust in her collection until it disappears, so…”

For the first time since they sat down at the table, Key turns to Johnny. The box lies on his open palm now, outstretched for him to take. “Here, maybe your separatist sunflower brat will make use of it.”

The reality of it doesn’t connect with Johnny just yet, and all of today seems like a weirdly elaborate dream with Seulgi’s hatchback Toyota, Blue Moon’s extremely unusual hideout - in Osaka, of all places, - and everything else beyond that. If it were a dream, there wouldn’t be any harm in pushing the boundaries a little further, right? So Johnny takes the box carefully, supporting the sudden weight of it with his left hand on the elbow.  

At first, it doesn’t feel like anything except just that - a heavy weight, requiring a conscious effort to keep holding it up. Then, where any regular box would’ve been bleeding rays of _Sun_ upon meeting foreign Flames, trying to protect its secret, this one doesn’t. It doesn’t feel anything like _Nox_ either, the easy calm and familiarity of Johnny’s own companion uncontested. It doesn’t feel like much of anything. It feels like nothing at all.

Johnny raises his eyes back at Key, but Key just nods, confirming all of Johnny’s suspicions.

“Strange, right?” He says, and in that moment the similarity between him and Yerim is uncanny: the mischievous look, full of wonder, equal in both of them.

But Johnny is, first and foremost, a person of action, and the vague _Mist_ plans make little sense to him. “What do I do if it doesn’t react to Haechan?”

“It will. I have a good feeling about this,” Key smiles. If Johnny didn’t know better he’d say it was a very intentional attempt at comfort, and yet he still goes down under its pressure. “If anything, you can come over, give the box back and we’ll have a drink whenever you don’t have to leave in such a hurry.”

Johnny feels the blush creep up his neck and ears and decides to ignore the implications in this invitation altogether - to spare him further embarrassment.

“He’s just a child. It’s much too early for him to be wielding an A-rank weapon,” he mumbles weakly, clinging to the last safe string in this minefield of a conversation, “but thank you. I’ll take it.”

Key doesn’t get up to see them off and stays behind at the small pentagon table, sipping on his wine and looking far, far away - much like when they’ve just arrived. Seulgi helps him find Minho and disappears into one of the guest rooms she’s been occupying with just a kiss on the cheek as her goodbye. It doesn’t really feel like they are going to meet again anytime soon despite his promise, and she probably understands it, too.

Minho looks as bright as ever, and it’s only now, having almost left the base, that Johnny feels welcome here.

“Don’t mind Kibum,” he says, the easygoing smile on his lips smoothing out Johnny’s agitation accumulated through the evening. “He hasn’t slept ever since we’ve been able to track the box back down, and he gets snappy when he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“I can understand that,” Johnny says because that’s what he is supposed to say, even if he has no idea how Key must be feeling.

The last time he’s seen Minho this close was during NCT’s formal introduction to the Alliance, when Johnny was just a little scrawny teenager who looked up at him. Now, however, they fall into step easily, pace measured and even. Minho talks and Johnny watches him intently the way he’s never been able to before, involuntarily comparing himself to him. Even in his comfortable home clothes, Minho radiates power and reliability.

They’ve never been close, and that’s a pity - Minho is the true embodiment of an older brother Johnny has never had but always dreamed of, and having his broad shoulder to lean on feels liberating, even if he wouldn’t ever actually dare to do it. Yuta would do it, though. He probably already did - they had been meeting for monthly football matches when Yuta wasn’t even out of the School yet, his _Storm_ matching Minho’s _Lightning_ much better than Doyoung’s.

The exit feels much better than the entrance did by a long shot. They reach the nearest hospital - the only kanji Johnny can read - in a matter of minutes, and go up the stairs to the rooftop. There’s a helicopter waiting for him already, and even though it’s not his first time experiencing technically illegal border crossing, it’s still definitely not something he’s used to. Johnny makes a mental note to check in with their person at the customs at a later date to avoid dealing with the officials.  

“Send my best regards to your Boss,” Minho nods politely, bidding Johnny farewell. “And tell Yuta hi for me. Osaka misses him.”

It takes Johnny some conscious effort to refrain from giving Minho a hug. “Of course.”

“Now, off you go.”

Johnny makes it to Seoul with a half an hour to spare - just enough to walk the two blocks to Neo Seoul from where he is now and be on time. Maybe even grab something to eat at the closest 7-Eleven on the way there.

It’s been at least two years since they’ve moved out of the _Hive_ to Hongdae and started using this helipad, but landing on the rooftop of a library, of all places, still feels weird, and seeing the library staff wear the SM Alliance crest on their uniforms is even weirder. A tiny old lady with faintly smoldering _Storm_ coals in her heart leads the way from the roof down even if Johnny’s memorized the layout of this place by now, but where he would turn to the right and head for the service entrance, she opens the door to their left, letting him into a smaller reading room.

Mark bolts from where he was seated and runs to Johnny, going straight for a hug. “Johnny!”

“Oh, _Boss_ ,” Johnny dodges it and bows down, thankful that this position allows him to hide his growing smile. “It’s an honor. I didn’t expect company.”

“Hyung!” Mark splutters, trying to get Johnny to stand upright. “Stop it!”

Johnny can’t help the laugh that escapes him - teasing Mark is one of the things that never got old, even though these days Donghyuck manages to do it twice as entertaining.

“Would’ve thought you’d get used to it by now,” he says, reaching out to pat Mark’s messy hair down, and Mark begrudgingly accepts the affection.

Now that Johnny can finally see him properly, his face is red with a bashful, shy smile still tugging on his lips. He’s changed in almost a month they haven’t seen each other - got his hair cut and dyed for once - probably Donghyuck’s handiwork, too, - but Johnny can’t quite put his finger on what else seems out of place.

“This is embarrassing,” Mark pouts like a child. He is a child, and this thought echoes in Johnny’s chest with a dull pain. “I’m not your Boss, I’m just… me?”

The desperation in his voice makes Johnny instantly regret joking about it at all - this winter must’ve been tough on Mark too, with its never-ending snowstorms and piling _Family_ problems.

“Don’t think I forgot,” Johnny’s voice softens in an attempt to make up for what he’s said earlier. “You’re my little brother before you are anything else.”

These words seem to put Mark at ease, and he flashes Johnny a smile again - if not as bright as before, then well on its way there. “Taeyongie-hyung told me your plans changed, so I decided to come and get you.”

Johnny smiles, trying to will his anxiety into calmness. “How is he?”

“As usual,” Mark shrugs. “Looks normal, but I know it hurts him. I just know it, even if he doesn’t say anything. You know how he gets.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Johnny sighs. He doesn’t like it, not one bit. Taeyong’s constant search for something - or, rather, someone - to fill the void and finally bring peace to his troubled _Sky_ has gotten him nowhere in the months he spent looking; he’s been withering with every passing day - at times in very tangible physical pain, other times pretending to be strong and becoming that much more vulnerable because of it. Johnny’s been doing everything in his powers to make it easier for him, as they all have, but there is just one solution to this problem - and they have yet to find it.

Mark’s voice takes Johnny out of his thoughts. “If you want to be in time for your meeting we’d better get going. It’s ten to ten already.”

The old _Storm_ lady opens the back door for them and swiftly closes it behind them - the library isn’t supposed to be working these hours on a Saturday, and Johnny suddenly feels like a student all over again, begging for another twenty minutes to finish his Modern History essay that was due the very next morning. Maybe it’s even the same woman who denied him the entry back then - Johnny’s not sure but he wouldn’t put it past this universe’s cruel sense of humor.

“Where’s Yongju?” Johnny asks, looking at the empty parking lot behind the library.

“I gave him the day off today, so we’ll have to walk from here,” Mark shrugs.

Johnny curses, mentally saying goodbye to his favorite hot-dog from the 7-Eleven.

The walk to Neo Seoul is short and, by Hongdae’s standards, uneventful. Seoul is much colder than Osaka was and it snows lightly, the thin cover of white concealing the steps in their wake. Once they turn into the alleyway it’s as if all the bustling life of the main street has disappeared and the sound of the group of teenagers busking from just around the corner is barely audible, as if separated from them with thick glass. Johnny recognizes Jaehyun’s work and gladly accepts it, the familiarity of his _Mist_ comforting after Key’s torturous barriers.

“Jaehyun-hyung is running the front desk,” Mark says, confirming Johnny’s suspicions, “so it’s been a quiet day.”

Neo Seoul, the guesthouse just a block away from the main street of Hongdae, belonged to _Neo City_ and was run by the members of the Family as a guise for their underground hideout. When Taeyong chose this spot, he decided that the best cover was to hide in plain sight of everyone looking for them. Town’s guard squad, they built a home for themselves in the heart of Seoul and settled there, occasional customers renting the rooms above the ground level unaware that they were in the safest place in the city. The dark four-story house blended into the background of similar buildings, quiet and impersonal as opposed to the colorful bars and shops all around it, but standing right out if you knew what you were looking for.

“You’re late,” Jaehyun tells Johnny with a wide grin. He is, indeed, sitting behind the counter, looking sleepy and extremely comfortable in his fleece sweater and the new chair Doyoung has bought for them not even a week ago.

Johnny scowls - more just out of habit than because he was actually angry with him. “Hi to you too, Jaehyun.”

“Hello, hyung,” Jaehyun gets up and gives Johnny half a hug over the counter, not minding the cold of Johnny’s coat. “Welcome back.”

Jaehyun gives Mark a hug, too, even though they’ve probably last seen each other not even an hour ago, but Johnny doesn’t comment on it; instead, he takes his coat off and brushes the melting snow off from his already damp hair. Jaehyun conjures a towel for him - neon green, his favorite color - and Johnny takes it, grateful that Jaehyun didn’t attempt to create an illusion of dry hair for him the way he did when they were caught by a rainstorm on a summer evening of their first year in School - he couldn’t control it enough to tone the intensity down and Johnny ended up with hair so fried he had to shave it off. Now he would probably do a much better job of it, but Johnny wasn’t ready to test that theory out just yet.

“Jaehyun-ah,” Johnny calls for him instead, interrupting whatever sweet conversation he had going on with Mark. “Do you know what’s the rush with this meeting?”

Jaehyun turns to him, eyes piercing for a fleeting second before he grins and his gaze softens. “Of course I do. Yongie-hyung has told me everything about it already. He tells me everything, you know.”

Johnny immediately regrets asking him - he’d do much better without the reminder that he, too, once was the person Taeyong confided his secrets and worries in, and that he wasn’t that person anymore. Jaehyun is smiling, still, and Johnny grips the green towel tightly to keep himself from strangling him then and there.

Mark probably feels the growing tension in the air and hurries to fill in the awkward pause growing in place of Johnny’s answer. “Hyung, you should probably get going before Doyoung-hyung comes up to get you.”

This is a much-needed intervention. Johnny uses it to breathe out, in, half-out again, and feels the familiar calm fill him up, finding no release without the rifle on a target and settling in his chest instead. Now that his head is clear of all the judgement clouding it he understands that Jaehyun probably - most likely - didn’t mean to hurt him, and all the implications were just projections of his insecure mind.

“Right, I’m sorry,” he says, ashamed now of his reaction. “Aren’t you coming, too?”

“It’s not… I’m not going,” Mark hesitates, biting on his bottom lip. “This is a Family matter.”

Right, of course. It’s hard to remember the boundaries when you’ve been raised into a Family and one day you’re just not one anymore.

Johnny sighs. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course,” comes the quick reply, and Johnny walks away before he can deal any more damage.

 

The entrance to their Base itself hides behind a regular one-bedroom suite door, and Johnny takes a look around to make sure nobody’s watching him - he still didn’t quite get the need to host civilians in Neo Seoul when all even accidental access there meant for the strangers was danger, but the Teacher insisted, and Taeyong protected this rule with more fervor than Johnny ever understood. For now, the hallway is empty, and Johnny slips into the room without a problem.

He discards his coat and hangs it over a radiator to dry, steps out of his heavy boots and puts them away together with two more pairs someone has forgotten, and aligns the doormat before entering the elevator downstairs - Taeyong hates disorder, always tries to keep their home impeccably clean, but there just isn’t enough of him for all of their big Family, so Johnny does everything he can to help him.

For what the elevator really is, it looks extremely ordinary: even metal plates on the walls, a mirror, a receiver on the far left from the door, yet in the time it takes for it to reach the lowest underground floor the technology that was built into it manages to analyze the Flame signature of the person inside, check their vitals and report to Kun and Sicheng in the tech wing for them to cast the final judgment. All of it painless, all of it proven effective against intruders when Seokmin - Jaehyun’s high school sweetheart with his big childhood crush still showing - came over and pretended to confuse the door with the bathroom and tried to sneak in. The _Phantasia_ had taken him in, and Seokmin’s Family was wise enough to not try and go against them, though Johnny can’t even imagine how tough of a decision that must’ve been. He’s getting out in a year or so - if he lives, that is, you can never be sure with the Alliance’s ward.

Johnny spots Doyoung as soon as the doors slide open. With his back turned to Johnny he was crouching and, judging from the smell of ozone in the air and sparkling green lights all over the walls in the corridor, instead of regular rats, he was feeding Taeil’s patrol boa his Flames again.

“You’re late,” he says, not even bothering to turn around. Johnny sighs, exasperated - he didn’t like being late, and he didn’t like being reminded of it even more, especially when it was Doyoung who could make Johnny feel guilty for the things he hasn’t even done with just a glance at a right angle.

“Hi to you too, Doyoung,” Johnny says, the vague sense of deja-vu scratching at the back of his head. “Something came up at the Blue Moon’s.”

Doyoung tries to play it off cool, but Johnny can totally tell he’s intrigued. “And what’s that?”

Johnny considers telling him - after all, if there’s one reliable person in this building right now, that would be Doyoung, - but it’s still not something he can just tell anybody, not after learning about the significance of the box. “I’m gonna talk it over with Taeyong first if you don’t mind.”

Doyoung looks obviously displeased but doesn’t make any attempts to argue. “You know I’m still going to find out, right?”

“Of course,” Johnny laughs, knowing the full extent of Doyoungs abilities, “I’ve got no doubts about it.”

He helps Doyoung onto his feet and gives him a short but tight hug - at the end of the day, no matter how much time has passed since they’ve last seen each other or how much they fought, their friendship was a constant ever since they were just classmates, when Johnny still missed home and Doyoung still took him to see his family every weekend.

“What’s with the towel?” Doyoung asks, nodding at the towel hung over Johnny’s shoulders. “And why is your hair wet?”

“It’s snowing,” Johnny grins and tugs at it. Not needed anymore, the towel disappears - a fine illusion, much better than that horrible hairdo. “Wanna bet Jaehyun’s closed up for the night and is playing outside with Mark as we speak?”

Mark loved Canadian winter, and he’s often asked Jaehyun or Jaemin to make it snow for him, but Jaehyun didn’t want to hurt him and always made the snow warm, and Jaemin still lacked the finesse, only once managing an indoors blizzard that successfully trapped him and Jeno in the kitchen until Renjun came and melted all of the illusory snow that refused to disappear for some reason. At times like these, it was all too easy to forget the war took their childhood

“It’s an obvious one,” Doyoung waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll pass.”

 

As it happens, Johnny is the last to join everyone in the conference room. Yuta gives him a sleepy wave, probably still jet-lagged from his recent trip to Hawaii - he only managed three days there and then bailed, returning more exhausted than well-rested as was initially planned, and promised to never take vacations farther than three hours trip on a plane (Johnny still envied him, because it still was a holiday, however short and unpleasant, and Johnny didn’t get any at all). Taeil, surprisingly, looks more cheerful and lively, and Johnny sits down near him, almost at the center of their large table: it looks almost empty without Jaehyun, all of the _Dreams,_ and all of their techs present, and it reminds Johnny of the times they just started living together in a two-bedroom apartment under the careful watch of the Teacher - though Johnny felt freer even under that pressure, and the pressure of now felt much more crushing than ever before.

He can tell Taeyong feels the same: he looks so small at the head of the table in his simple but still too big for his chair, and Johnny’s almost tempted to come and sit closer to him, but Doyoung’s already left his eagle in the corridor for security and closed the door behind him, eloquently asking for attention.

“Okay, just for the record, before we start,” he doesn’t look at any of the Guardians present and rather looks for something on his laptop, “Jaehyun is absent because he’s on the desk duty tonight, and he probably has an ear here anyway. Jungwoo helped me conduct the investigation, so he’s here to keep me in check.”

“You’re one of the most checked in people I know,” Yuta scoffs. “How come you need help with that?”

It’s not an insult, but coming from Yuta it certainly sounds like one. Doyoung does what’s best in this situation - ignores the jab and continues as if nothing happened.

“With all of that out of the way, let’s start.”

“This boy,” Doyoung hums, opening a photo file in fullscreen, “is the last one from the original Numero. You all already know, but just a little reminder - the _Numero Famiglia_ , as we know it now, is not a Family at all. What’s left of them is their name and an indefinite number of mercenaries, guerrilla troops, and tech staff. The largest network of human trafficking in the South-East is still theirs and, even though it’s been deteriorating quickly since the fall of the Numero Guardians, it’s still way out of our league - at least for us as only the Neo City. After the Seven Birds left, _Twice_ became their most prominent unit - Johnny’s met one of them earlier today. For someone who managed to get their hands on one of the Alliance’s assets, she was an easy target.”

Johnny thinks back to Minatozaki who reacted fast enough and used Activation to see him and who knew where to look to find him, and the memory of her limp body on the floor gives him chills - he’s not scared of her, but he’d like it very much if he never got to meet her again.

 _Should’ve just killed her_ , a tiny voice says in the back of his head, and Johnny bites his tongue to keep himself from screaming.

Meanwhile, Doyoung continues. “The thing is: neither Twice, nor any of Numero’s other current contractors have ever had any connections to the original seven. No one, except for this guy.”

He stops to pass around thin folders and waits for everyone to get a copy before he continues. “The Tenth Numero, Ten for short. Real name unknown, age unknown, type of the Flame unknown. Presumably _Sun_.”

He takes a quick look at his notes and then back to the projected photo on the wall of their meeting room. Johnny looks at the photo, too: the colors, the ligature of the letters above it, the pattern behind - everything tells him that the photo was taken from a Thai passport, but he doesn’t want to make any assumptions just yet - Johnny, having a dozen of different passports to his face and not necessarily his name, knows better than to jump to conclusions, so he takes to inspecting the picture instead.

The boy in the photo - Ten, apparently - looks young and bright-eyed, his features soft and round. His eyes smile, even if the rest of his documented face doesn’t betray it, and the sincerity of it is so unnerving Johnny can’t bear to look for too long.

“As per Taeyong’s request, Jungwoo and I have spent the past month tracking him down. He stayed at Neo Seoul during the Holiday season, hence the passport photo,” Doyoung gestures to the screen behind his back absentmindedly, “said he was here for some idol company audition. The Base hadn’t detected any Flames on him at that time, so we let him stay. It wasn’t until he left and all the tracks leading back to him disappeared that Boss told me about him, so, as you can imagine, we had to do quite a bit of digging.”

Taeyong slides down the chair, looking even smaller under Doyoung’s pointed gaze.

“After he’d come here, he didn’t leave the country, and yet he wasn’t seen much anywhere. Some of our sources say he’s just hiding, others claim it’s because he’s been injured during _the Fallout_.”

Johnny frowns at the word - any mention of it still echoes through his body with the dull ache of sleepless nights and fight after fight after fight - but quickly schools his expression to polite neutrality and just shrugs when he notices Taeyong looking his way. Still, it doesn’t make sense. “So what about him?”

A smile blooms on Doyoung’s face with a premonition of a new challenge. Johnny knows this smile full well, and he doesn’t like it one bit - it promises nothing but problems and more problems, so Johnny looks down, unwilling to give Doyoung the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to the answer that follows.

“We think Ten might be our true _Sun_ Guardian.”

Oh. Oh, _no_.

They have been having this conversation at least once a week ever since Mark presented as a _Sky_ and left, taking Donghyuck with him. It was not the separation per se - after all, they still lived on the same Base - but rather the ring of the _Sun_ he left behind that weighed Taeyong down, making him restless, anxious and impossible to reason with.

“You’re projecting,” Johnny sighs, trying to rub an impending headache out of his temples. “Like, I get it, I really do. You think you can just give your golden ring to an enemy, who, for all we know, might carry _Mist_ in him with all that Flame hiding skill, hide him under your dragon wing now that he has nowhere to go, and roll the credits, but that’s just not how this world works. You know it better than anyone else.”

Now, Taeyong doesn’t look at him at all, and if they hadn’t been through thick and thin together Johnny would’ve thought he managed to change his mind, but Taeyong just furrows his brows, hands clasped over the folder with Ten’s photos in a feigned wistfulness. Feigned. Fake. No matter what Johnny said - no matter what any of them said, for that matter, - Taeyong has already made his final decision about him.

“I know my Guardian when I see one,” he says finally, and the warmth in his voice is so unlike the cold of this February night.

Johnny still shivers.

The heavy silence loops its invisible arms around him and squeezes until it’s hard to breathe. Taeyong looks at him - open and bold, the way Johnny hasn’t seen him in months, and for a second it seems that taking this risk will be worth it if he gets to see Taeyong smile again the way he used to, but it only sounds good in theory. This Ten isn’t an easy target: a Numero, and an advisor to the main Family to boot - like Doyoung has said, way out of their league.

And still, the hope sparks at the bottom of his heart. Tiny and weak, it still smolders trying to warm him up, and Johnny gives in, hoping this spark won’t set their Family on fire.

“Okay,” he lets out a heavy sigh, and the way Taeyong’s eyes light up at his defeat make Johnny’s heart race at the thought of him still being the one Taeyong comes for approval, even though he’s no longer the second-in-command and hasn’t been one in a really long time, with Doyoung successfully filling the role. “Okay, let’s say he really is our Guardian. What exactly is it you’re going to do? Didn’t you say he’s been out of business?”

Doyoung doesn’t look all too pleased with the questions, but, in a typical Doyoung fashion, he has the answers anyway. “The files I’ve provided you with have all the information we have on him at the moment: the background info in more detail, last sightings, more photos. Since the Numero hire people out, our best bet is to try and come up with a joint mission between us and them, and make it so he is the only person capable of helping us.”

 _Easier said than done_ , Johnny thinks, looking at Ten’s smile on one of the candid photos from the folder - he looks like a person who gets things done with ease, and that frustrates Johnny the most.

“Use the clues in the dossier, get creative with it,” Doyoung continues, counting their options on his fingers, “play the Alliance card if you have to, get Externals involved - I don’t care. Taeyong needs him, Teacher gave his blessings, so now everything depends on us alone.”

Yuta doesn’t look so sleepy anymore, taking to the task immediately and marking some photos with his red pen already; even Taeil, usually airheaded and absent-minded, pays close attention to everything Doyoung says, and the weight of the finality of this decision connects with Johnny all at once: they are going to do it, they really are. They are going to trick an outsider into staying with them on the off chance he likes Neo City enough to leave his comfortable life to become their Guardian, and this sounds so ludicrous Johnny can barely stifle a nervous laugh.

There are so many holes in this plan that it’s completely see-through, but it’s also oddly reminiscent of the days they were first starting, with Taeyong finding his Family in the strangest people around the School: from Johnny who was glad to find a new home away from Chicago to Donghyuck who radiated _Sun_ from the very first time they saw him - a bright yellow flicker in the sea of prim and proper and so _grey_ students at the entrance ceremony. The thought of giving his spot to a complete stranger now feels scary, but so did coming together for the first time all those years ago - this fear makes Johnny proud of them for overcoming it, but knowing now what they didn’t know back then makes taking this step again that much more frightening.

It’s easier because Taeyong gives them no choice to say no, so they are going to make that happen.

“We are temporarily cleared of every ongoing long-term mission,” Doyoung looks at Taeyong who gives him a short nod of approval, “so we could focus on the task at hand. Daily meetings here, same time as today. Verbal reports allowed unless you have pictures or anything of the sort.”

At last, he sits down - at Taeyong’s right hand, where he belongs.

Jungwoo tries to give his back a light pat, but Doyoung frowns and swats his hand away, and yet Johnny doesn’t miss the way he rolls his chair closer and presses their shoulders together, for once not minding the close proximity.

The relief in his voice is audible. “That’s all from me. Boss?”

“I have nothing to add, just… Let’s bring him _home_ ,” Taeyong sighs, his gentle voice still resonating through the giant room. “Dismissed.”

Nobody makes a move to leave, probably too caught up in the thoughts of the task at hand. Technically, it’s not impossible, and the course of actions seems like a standard scheme of came-saw-conquered, but all the variables in this equation leave Johnny uneasy: what if they never find a convincing enough reason to get in touch with Ten, what if Ten doesn’t want to leave his Family in the first place, what if…

Is Ten really worth all the trouble they are about to put themselves through? And will Ten be able to heal the wounds they will inevitably get along the way? There is no way to know for sure but to find him and ask.

That’s what they are going to do, but for today Johnny just needs to eat and get to bed as soon as he possibly can: now that all the important stuff is out of the way, Johnny’s basic human needs demand attention, so he puts all the papers back into the Doyoung’s neat folder and gets up, shaking the numbness of the tired limbs off.

“Anyone up for a late-night snack?” He asks, not really hoping for an answer, but Taeyong nods and gets up too, following Johnny out of the room without a word. Doyoung’s eagle looks over them with unnerving interest but lets them go through the barrier easily at the taste of Taeyong’s familiar Flame.

Johnny is acutely aware of Taeyong’s presence beside him. His _Sky_ calls for Johnny’s _Rain_ and it echoes back readily, eager to reconnect with its harmony, so Johnny takes Taeyong’s cold hand and entwines their fingers, finding a semblance of a fragile balance in the light touch.

Taeyong looks up at him, confused, but doesn’t say anything and just squeezes Johnny’s hand back - almost reassuringly, as if out of the two of them it’s Johnny who needs the comfort. His palm feels thinner, much bonier than Johnny remembers, even if its grip is just as strong as ever before, and Johnny envelops it whole with ease, grateful for this silent moment of closeness.

 

“What’s for dinner?” Johnny asks, looking around the kitchen. It’s clean - too clean, in fact - and it doesn’t betray the meal they’ve had, outing, however, the one who took care of the aftermath in a content looking Taeyong.

“Technically,” he says, washing his hands thoroughly, “you’re late for dinner. There still should be some leftover pasta in the fridge, though.”

Johnny decides to let the remark slide. “Pasta? Again?” He asks instead - he’s never been a picky eater, but the pasta in their household had always been terrible unless it was Johnny who made it. Which he didn’t.

“It was Mark’s turn on kitchen duty today,” Taeyong looks almost guilty saying that. He seems to understand Johnny’s gripes with it, and gives up easily. “Alright,” he sighs, “I’ll fix something quick for you, just quit pouting.”

Taeyong turns the stove on, and Johnny sits down near it, where it’s warmer - not the artificial dry warmth of the air conditioning, but the almost real homely feeling of a fireplace at his house back in Chicago, - and just watches him.

Watching Taeyong go about his ritual of preparing food was almost therapeutic to Johnny, as did watching him do anything, really. He had the grace of someone who knew what they were doing, his every movement precise and purposeful - with years and years of battle training even a dulled down kitchen knife became a deadly weapon in his hands, and Johnny looked at it with the same wonder, glad to be on Taeyong’s side and not on the receiving end of his strike.

Focused, Taeyong keeps his silence, but Johnny can still tell there’s a lot he has to say beyond the idle chat their conversation has digressed to since leaving the conference room: it’s a skill that comes from living side by side with someone for so long, from burying your fears in the trust they’ve earned, from listening to their breath in the darkest of nights. Johnny knows Taeyong has a lot to say, so he asks him.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

Taeyong doesn’t stop chopping the vegetables, he doesn’t even flinch, but the air around him shifts, now dense with nervous energy. He knows exactly what Johnny’s talking about. “I’m scared it won’t,” comes his quiet reply, as if he’s scared to even say it aloud.

Johnny’s attuned to this reaction so his response is almost immediate. It doesn’t require a conscious effort or a command: his Flames meet Taeyong’s halfway again, now brushing past the defenses with ease, and cling to Taeyong’s skin, eager to work their magic, and Taeyong accepts the help, letting out a shaky laugh.

“Sometimes I see Flames,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “and watching this _Sun_ rise in solitude was even worse than…”

He lets the implication hang, but his palm covers the Ring hiding beneath his shirt - a dead giveaway of the true culprit, guilty of his distress. Johnny reaches up to tug the chain off his neck, and Taeyong lets him have it, visibly relieved to be rid of its burden.

“I know you don’t approve of it,” Taeyong sighs and watches Johnny put the Ring on before continuing, “and I know all of it sounds unreasonable, but I’ve met him. I’ve met him, and I know he belongs with us.”

The Ring pulsates around Johnny’s finger, expanding just enough to fit. It doesn’t burn just yet, but Johnny already anticipates a rough night.

Johnny doesn’t approve of it. It does sound unreasonable. And still, Johnny thinks Boss's orders are to be obeyed - even if they sound more like polite requests and are coupled with visibly guilty smiles.

“I trust you,” he says, and feels Taeyong finally relax. “For now - let’s eat, and deal with all of it later.”

 


	2. the impossible month

The corridor winds down in a tight spiral and Johnny runs, keeping his right hand on the wall - for purchase, if not for guidance. Behind him, where his fingers touch the warm surface, the metal yields and comes apart at the seams, the screws keeping the plates together streaming down in molten tears of gold.  _ Something  _ rushes to surface up in the material world - hot, angry, suppressed for far too long, - and sizzles in whispers of  _ let me out, Johnny, I’m not gonna hurt you, _ simmering down at the touch of his Rain shield before it could get ahold of him.

It will not hurt him, Johnny knows that much. It gives no promises of not hurting anyone else, though, so he tries to block the sweet voice out of his mind and continue the descent to the depth of the unknown.

Each step further echoes in Johnny’s body with a dull ache of a healing burn; the rough cotton of his shirt rubs the irritated skin, and the bulletproof vest weighs him down in a way that’s very different from the pleasant heaviness he’s used to. Underneath it all, as if not held back by the gravity, the Sun ring swings from side to side like a pendulum, counting down the uneven breaths he musters through the growing heat. 

He thinks back to Taeyong bidding him goodbye, words of warning on his tongue, his bony fingers worrying the loose gauze wrapped over the nasty burn on his neck, and curses himself for not being able to help, for not being there when he was needed most.

_ I should’ve come here sooner,  _ he thinks, defiant. 

And then thinks,  _ here - where, exactly? _

The unfamiliar walls close in on him at the revelation, and Johnny runs until he can barely move through the narrowing pathway. Panic rises in him when he understands that the Rain cannot keep the walls up anymore and that what was inside, threatening to burst through at any moment, is already out.

Johnny doesn’t know what this  _ something  _ is: he’s just afraid, and he doesn’t want to be burnt alive, so he tries to escape its scalding embrace.

_ I’d never hurt you, Johnny, _ it wraps its metal fingers around his neck.

Johnny feels the surge of tears burning at the corners of his eyes, and he tries to take a breath to fight them back, but only manages a pitiful choked-up sob before his limbs go numb and his vision turns black.

 

The ring remains a dead weight around his neck even after Johnny wakes up, and the smell of dried up blood and burnt flesh lingers in the air even after he opens his eyes and finds himself in the living room, safe and sound. He tries to rub the soreness of sleeping on the couch away but it doesn’t really help and only aggravates the hurt skin instead.

“Rough night?” Someone asks him, and Johnny hears his neck snap at the sudden turn, finally releasing some of the pressure. It’s Kun, and he doesn’t look much better than how Johnny feels - his hair is all ruffled, his cheeks are still puffy with sleep, still keeping the deep red imprint of his pillow; he sits down on the couch when Johnny makes space for him and closes his eyes, visibly relaxing.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Johnny admits. Yesterday - or, rather, today - after a late-night dinner, they started on a plan of action, piecing together the information provided by Doyoung. Taeyong gave up and left before the patrol came, but Johnny stayed up to have an early morning drink with Taeil before crashing, at last, the stress of the previous day catching up to him, seeping into his restless sleep.

_ Flashes of gold, hot, suffocating. _

Johnny doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, he can’t afford to: he was just tired, he convinces himself, and it was all just a dream.

And it was just that. He’s never had any of Taeyong’s intuition in him, blessed with nonsensical explosions of color that would inevitably fade away come morning instead, so he does what’s best for him - he lets this dream go, soon forgetting it in the idle chatter with Kun, who tells him about the new fifth-dimension training device they are planning to install in the upcoming weeks, and how they’ve lost all sleep over it without a Mist tech on hand with Jungwoo being busy with whatever it is Doyoung needs him for, as Kun has put it. 

“Surely it’s more important than all of their not-so-subtle flirting,” he grimaces, and even though Johnny thinks Kun deserves to know the truth he can’t bring himself to speak up.

“You know how Doyoung is,” he tries weakly, looking around for their second-in-command who had the habit of appearing in the most inopportune of moments. “He will never do anything to hurt the Family.”

Kun nods. He knew Doyoung better than most, rooming with him in Academy for years before being inevitably shipped off to Guangzhou to train the new recruits, and didn’t hold it against him for moving on when he’d come back. 

Little by little, the room fills with life. Jaehyun joins them soon, and noon brings Mark and Hyuck in, the rest of the Dreams in tow; suddenly, there’s not enough space for all of them to stretch out after the grueling practice they put themselves through. Johnny scoots over and Hyuck plops down beside him, all soft residual Sun light and radiant warmth. 

“Hey there little buddy,” Johnny laughs at the immediate displeased scrunch in Hyuck’s nose, “how’d the training go?”

By the way Hyuck’s cheeks puff at the question Johnny understands that he’s not pleased with the results. “Kinda stuck,” Hyuck sighs - an exaggerated and dramatic sound, - “not getting any better at healing. Not even scratches!”

Chenle is happy to show off a fresh gash on his leg to illustrate Hyuck’s point, clearly from something much sharper than the bamboo shinai they’ve been training with recently, still faintly bleeding and definitely beginning to swell with a future bruise. Kun gasps and gets up to go and get the first aid kit Doyoung has kept for Taeyong in the adjacent kitchen ever since the first burning incident. Hyuck takes this chance and stretches across the place he occupied on the sofa, laying his head on Johnny’s lap. 

Johnny brushes the long bangs off from his forehead - his hair is definitely much longer than it was the last time Johnny’s seen him. “At least the Activation works fine,” he notes and lets Hyuck pout to his heart’s content before revealing, “I have a surprise for you.”

At that, Hyuck’s face brightens up immediately. “Really?” His eyes shine with a childish wonder, reminding Johnny once again that he really is a kid, nothing more. “What’s that?”

“That’s a secret for now,” Johnny grins, and then mysteriously adds, “You’ll see.”

Hyuck whines and Johnny laughs again, messing up his overgrown hair. Mark looks at them from his armchair across the room but doesn’t say anything. Johnny winks at him and the tips of Mark’s ears light up when he understands the implication.

They order takeout for lunch because Taeyong, who’s next in line, doesn’t have the time to cook: he leaves in a hurry just a little before two, only taking Doyoung with him and ordering an executive class car to the entryway of Neo Seoul. Jaehyun sees him off and then joins the rest of them back already in the dining room. Sicheng comes up from the lab as well, and Yuta follows him shortly, looking visibly disheveled but ultimately pleased with something Johnny has no desire to dig deeper into. 

The silence of their meal is too comfortable to last long - it’s Yuta, unsurprisingly, who breaks it. “Any updates?” He asks, mouth still full of spicy noodles, and Johnny doesn’t understand what he’s talking about until Yuta swallows and explains himself, “I mean, that Ten guy? Did you come up with something?”

While Johnny understands first priority tasks, he doesn’t like talking about them at the table. 

“Nothing yet,” he says, and expects the curt reply to be the end of the conversation - at least for now. 

Yuta, in a typical Yuta fashion, pushes further. “D’ya think I should call Sorn? Since the guy is apparently Thai and all.”

Johnny grimaces. He looks over at the Dreams and is surprised to see them not paying any attention to their heated conversation until he notices the thin Mist layer covering them. Jaehyun just nods in response to Johnny’s questioning gaze and gets busy with the last piece of pepperoni pizza before any of the kids can get to it. 

“I don’t think it’s wise to get the lesser families involved,” Johnny lowers his voice anyway and beckons Yuta to come closer. “It’s only been a day. We can come up with something, I’m sure.”

To that, Yuta only murmurs something about Johnny’s American optimism, and the subject is dropped. Unsurprisingly, the mood drops as well.

Taeyong comes back empty-handed, the urgent meeting at the SM headquarters not bringing any clarity to their case; rather, the revelation presents new obstacles they’ll have to cross on their way to execution of their plan. Not that they have a working plan to begin with, of course, but still. 

“A Numero rep called,” Taeyong says, loosening the noose of the tie around his neck, “We can forget about the new supply Kun’s been securing with them.

He looks at Johnny for a moment, tilting his head to the side, and continues with a sigh. “It will remain a Numero secret since you weren’t necessarily gentle with one of their Guardians last night.”

There’s no accusation in his voice, just weariness - he, possibly more than anyone else in their Family, knows the price of making mistakes. This absolving understanding is what makes Johnny feel worse, and he can’t help the resentment bubbling inside of him at that moment: towards Taeyong and, even more so, towards himself. 

_ Let me out, Johnny, _ it begs, but it’s gone before Johnny can actually consider it.

“I don’t have an excuse for it,” he bows his head - and even if Taeyong doesn’t like it, it’s really hard to get the years of training out of someone who’s been conditioned to be a servant to the Boss, even if they’ve been fucking said Boss for the majority of their time together, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you do have one, Johnny,” Taeyong brushes cold fingers against his jaw, lifting his chin up slightly, “I’m sorry it doesn’t matter.” 

 

They get to the training grounds when it’s already safe to say that the day has been lost. Mark trails behind Johnny and Hyuck under the pretense of being a Boss and having to control everything that’s happening with his Family, and Johnny lets it slide - if only because this is the first time he’s ever heard Mark assert his position out loud.

Of course, Hyuck would be involved. He’s their only Sun, and all life in here seems to revolve around him, more or less. 

“You’ve never had an animal box training, right?” Johnny asks, and Hyuck shakes his head lightly, his eyes not leaving the golden box on Johnny’s outstretched palm even once. “Take it,” he prompts, and Hyuck doesn’t hesitate to do so.

He weights the box in his hand, takes it from one hand to the other and back, but nothing remarkable happens. “Uh… What should I do now?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically unsure and small. 

Johnny isn’t used to seeing him like this, and it makes him think twice about what he says next and how. “What do you feel?” He asks, ultimately settling for something neutral, guiding Hyuck away from the direct action he’s used to and into introspection that’s so important for understanding one’s companion - especially since the connection hasn’t been established yet.

Hyuck thinks for a bit, focusing, but his eyes dart past Johnny to Mark standing beside the entryway to the training hall, and then back to the box in his hand when he becomes restless with the results. “Nothing, really,” he furrows his brows, and for a moment Johnny feels sorry for him - it must be tough, handling a weapon of this caliber on the first encounter, - but thinks better of it when he remembers that it’s Hyuck, and he could spare the pity for someone less capable and determined to win.

“Usually, you should at least feel the presence,” Johnny explains, and then adds quickly before Donghyuck can start worrying, “but this one is special, apparently. Give it some flame now, call out for it, wait.”

Johnny, his Rain soaking him to the bone for years, loves the light that instantly surrounds Hyuck: it’s warm and all-encompassing, it scatters everywhere in little reflective specs, catching in the curls of his bleached outgrown hair and reflecting in his eyes as Hyuck tries to channel it to the box in his hand. It’s the only warmth he can get in this long winter.

“That was to be expected,” Johnny sighs when nothing happens, and pats Hyuck’s electrified hair down in an attempt at comfort. “Don’t take it to heart. It took Nox a month to take shape and present herself, so you’ll have to just keep this up.”

Hyuck doesn’t look particularly pleased. Results like this - or, rather, the lack thereof - is hard to accept when you are used to being the best at everything from the first try. “What is this, a Naruto training arc?” 

Johnny snickers. “That’s what Yuta said, too. You’ve been spending too much time together.”

He takes Nox from her slot on the belt and weighs it in his hand: it's light, as if it were empty, in complete contrast to the box that was weighing Hyuck's hand down. Johnny feels a distant purring echo within his chest when he calls for his flames and then, without a second of delay, she’s already out. 

Nox looks at him, accusation in the cold look of her blue eyes, but allows Johnny to give her a scratch behind rounded ears before she turns to Hyuck who seems to brighten up at the sight of her, and coming without any hesitation - she, after all, knows better than anyone how Johnny feels about him, - when Hyuck reaches for her and calls her name out. 

Recently, Johnny hasn’t had a lot of chances to use her, and now that he sees the dull reflect in her fur and the desperation she licks the flames from Donghyuck’s hands, he feels guilty. “Sparring?” He suggests tentatively, and where Mark shakes his head in disapproval, Hyuck beams, always ready to fight. 

“On it!”

 

The lack of tasks at hand, which was hailed at the beginning, becomes tiring very quickly - by the end of the first week, the responsible for the whole affair Doyoung drowns in the restless energy of the idle waiting; Jaehyun, usually mild and peaceful, takes the accumulated frustration out on Yuta, of all people, who is so shocked that he doesn’t even bite back; and even Taeil, who usually is the first to take the responsibilities off his shoulders in favor of an afternoon nap, spends more time with the rest of them in the common room as the days go by, calling up his old  _ Academy  _ friends for a lead. 

The leads are few and far between, maybe that’s why they cling to the suggestion pitched by Heechul for dear life. Doyoung, together with Johnny, ends up doing some digging into a new Thai restaurant nearby, ultimately resulting in nothing but a  _ thanks for the info, kids, _ from Heechul for all the dirty work that has never had anything to do with finding Ten in the first place. 

They swear off looking for the help outside after that.

Looking for a person in Seoul, Johnny finds, is like looking for a needle in a haystack - especially if the said person doesn't want to be found. The spirits fall dramatically after February rolls around, bringing in a slew of their birthdays together with freezing northern winds. Taeyong makes a cake for Doyoung, but it doesn’t help the mood much - even though the cake is, admittedly, the best thing Johnny has ever tasted. With the help of the Dreams, he does the same for Jisung, who allows his happiness to shine through his usually stoic demeanor. There’s no one at the table who doesn’t envy him that day.

Johnny doesn’t get a cake. Instead, they go out for the first time in almost a month, and it’s a   intervention. The cursed Thai restaurant around the corner not only presents no hidden threat to Neo City - and, by extension, the entire Alliance, - but also serves the best Tom Yum in Seoul, which Johnny is happy to consume any day of any given year, be it a special occasion or not. It’s ironic, he thinks, chewing on a particularly meaty piece of shrimp, yet Johnny can’t help but think about their target on the only day of the year when he is allowed to relax a little and let loose.

It’s been exactly three weeks already, and no progress has been made. At all. Johnny feels the poorly concealed frustration in the friends surrounding him, but they put a smile for him, so he reciprocates and puts the party hat on like the good boy he is. 

Johnny’s fallen too many times, but they’ve never held his mistakes against him. 

“Here’s to Family!” He proposes a toast, trying to shift the focus back to what really matters. Everyone cheers.

That night, he gets a call from Sehun. He’s fashionably late with his birthday greetings, but Johnny is happy to hear from him nonetheless. If they haven’t been particularly close since Sehun has been assigned to the External Forces, it wasn’t for the lack of trying; the job is a job, and if anything, it’s Johnny who got too preoccupied with his newfound family, trying to find a place for himself in Taeyong’s embrace and stop thinking about those who left him behind.

“Wanna grab a coffee sometime next week?” Sehun asks, voice level and nonchalant. It takes Johnny back to their School years, to the time when it was a regular occurrence that feels almost like a lifetime ago. “Yeol-hyung is preparing another shipment of melee weapons Xing-hyung’s way, to China, so we’ll be staying in the city for two nights.”

Johnny’s lip twitches at the mention of their external agent in China, but his voice doesn’t betray his annoyance when he speaks again. “You’ll have to stop by Neo Seoul then. We’re on lockdown.” 

Sehun doesn’t miss a beat. “Care to elaborate?”

“That’s a long story,” Johnny sighs but tells him everything anyway. Sehun listens to the story carefully, without any interruptions, and when Johnny’s done, he only has one question to ask:

“Why haven’t you told me sooner?”

Johnny doesn’t like being put on the spot like that. He doesn’t want to say anything about the month Doyoung spent gathering all the information, and especially not about the absolute failure of a mission from Heechul. “That, too, is a long story,” he says again and this time, that’s all Johnny’s willing to give.

Sehun accepts it. He promises to think about what they can do and hangs up on Johnny before he can protest. Johnny looks down, where the faintly pulsating Sun ring shines through his shirt, its light dull because of the thick fabric covering it but warm nonetheless, and wonders if it’s sentient. That day, it doesn’t burn him as much.

 

They meet Redmare for an unexpected breakfast the very next day. Seulgi stops by Neo Seoul early in the morning, when the falling snow is still bright white in the headlights of the corporate car she’s borrowed. Johnny bows his head before Irene who actually steps out of the car to shake hands with the still sleepy Taeyong, hugging him after and rubbing a delicate palm between his shoulder blades, releasing the cold shivers. 

“Still alive, Dragon,” she nods and, even though there’s no malice in her voice, Johnny feels the heavy weight of truth in it. 

Taeyong is not the one to take the bait; he just shrugs, letting Irene’s words roll off his back with the morning snow. 

“Fire cannot kill me,” Taeyong quips back, and Johnny barely manages to hide his laughter in Seulgi’s shoulder. He remembers the nights before spring evaluations in their second year of School, spent binging  _ Game of Thrones _ in the dorms and giving unsolicited battle advice to the characters on the screen instead of honing their own skills. Remembers how their whole year called Taeyong the Mother of Dragons and how he frowned, but never spoke up - because technically, it was true, and you can’t argue with facts. The fact that the  _ “h” _ in Johnny’s name never made a difference to their Korean peers didn’t help their case, either.

Irene smirks, probably catching on to the reference as well - even though Redmare were preparing for the initiation that year, they’ve always been close, maybe even closer than most people think it’s possible to get to the Alliance’s ice princess. She gestures for them to get in the car and they comply, happy to finally be away from the cold.

“What brings you to Seoul?” Johnny asks, filling in the silence Taeyong had no intention to fill. 

Seulgi takes a look at Irene’s profile, and answers for her after a short nod. “We have to formally apologize for the Osaka incident,” she explains, and then runs a hand through her hair sheepishly, “it’s also my birthday, and I wanted to be with the family… In a broader sense of the word.”

The confession hits Johnny with an unexpected force; he falls silent and doesn't say much until they reach their destination at the Alliance's headquarters on the other side of the Han river all the way in Gangnam.

It makes sense for them to meet on the safe grounds, but the atmosphere of the main office feels even more menacing than ever before, with the last memories of him being there for getting officially demoted doing nothing to dispel the eerie aura of the place. 

They get a booth in the very corner of the company cafe on the first floor and Johnny sits near Seulgi, leaving Taeyong to get the chair out for Irene before tucking himself closer to the window wall. The waiter takes their usual orders and disappears in a faint purple Mist glow, leaving them to their glasses of water and calm morning silence.

Leaving the meaningless catching up aside, Irene drops the bomb after their food arrives. "Yesterday, Yerimie spoke with Twice's leader," she reveals and Taeyong, who stayed mostly silent throughout the conversation, chokes on his toast and coughs loudly, trying to catch his breath.

"Excuse me?" He barely manages before another fit of coughs takes him.

Irene nods. "They don't know we were involved, they only know about our Johnny-boy here. Seulgi's part of the job was done perfectly and, luckily, they found no traces of her.”

"Now that's just fucking great," Johnny mumbles, stabbing a butter knife into his waffle. 

"It is. We have managed to establish a good enough relationship with them ever since moving to Japan after the mess you've caused here," Irene's tone is sharp, and cuts much deeper than the knife in Johnny's hand ever could. "That's how we found out they'd owned that box in the first place. It's just your luck that the success in retrieving this box helped them with awakening their Sky."

Johnny feels his throat run dry. He remembers the terror in the scream of the girl who held Sana's lifeless body instantly, but it takes a moment for him to remember her name. "Jihyo?" He asks, and already knows the answer.

"You said it first."

They continue their meal in silence for a while after that. The unspoken question of "and now what?" hangs above them like a sword of Damocles, but they take their time before addressing it.

This time, it's Seulgi who speaks, leaving Irene some time to finish her coffee. “They aren't willing to pursue you for the stolen box - which is good. They, however, have Sky flames in their midst now - which isn't as good. The two cancel each other for now but, as you can imagine, it might be a problem in the future."

Taeyong sighs. "At least now Johnny doesn't have a target on his back anymore. We can get to their Sky fledgling later."

Johnny doesn't like the way that sounds and, even if nothing gives it away in Taeyong's appearance, he's been trained to see the signs of red storming up the clear Sky.

It doesn't escape Irene either. "Wow, what's with the tone? Bloodthirsty much?" She smirks. "Look where it's gotten you."

Taeyong throws Johnny a look, eyebrows drawn up in a silent plea, and Johnny reaches for his hand across the table and takes Taeyong's dry and warm palm into his own, letting the Rain do its job. It doesn't feel right under the attentive watch of others, and he lets go as soon as Taeyong's breathing evens out and the angry crease on his forehead disappears.

"Stop drugging him," Irene's voice is stern, the look in her eyes unforgiving. "What's gonna happen when you're gone?"

This one feels like a slap in the face. Johnny wants to get defensive, to say he's never going to leave, except he has left once already, at the hardest period of time for Taeyong at that, and there's never a guarantee that he won't leave again.

All of them leave, sooner or later. Rarely does anyone live beyond thirty in their world.

_ Johnny, come back. Taeyong needs you.  _ Johnny hears Doyoung's voice, over and over.  _ He needs you. _

How Johnny wishes he didn't.

Still, he puts up a very confident front and stands up for himself, and for the Boss he's sworn to protect.

"Sorry to disappoint, noona. I'm not leaving anytime soon."

Seulgi apologizes on Irene's behalf later, when she leaves to meet Teacher Lee a few floors up from the cafe they were sat at. 

"She didn't mean it in a bad way, Taeyong-ssi," Seulgi offers him a small smile, "she's just intense."

Taeyong mirrors the smile, but it looks worn on his lips. "I know. It's okay, really. She is right," he sighs, and brushes a finger over Johnny's outstretched palm before he catches himself and hides his hands under the table. "We really should stop."

The girls drive them back to Neo Seoul, and it's almost noon when they reach the hideout. They don’t speak on the elevator ride down, nor do they speak when they get there. Taeyong disappears behind the door to his room with a metallic snap of the lock - more of a formality than anything else in a household full of outlaws, - and Johnny wills the urge to follow him down, trying to convince himself that this would be better for the both of them.

 

The general atmosphere of the Base grows more and wearier as time goes by. The meetings they have at the end of each day, with the scattered bits of new information intercepted by days of radio silence, become shorter and more charged - sometimes with the shared frustration, other times quite literally with the Flames spiking out of control in heated arguments. 

Johnny hates the meetings. He hates them more with every new plan they come up with, the holes in them glaring and irreconcilable.

"It's not gonna work," Johnny sighs, and maybe Yuta just hasn't had a chance to let enough of the Storm inside him out, or maybe anyone would react the same in his place, but he drops the pointer and reaches Johnny in a few strides, crumpling the collar of his shirt.

"Then come up with your own plan for a change, how about that?" He spits, and then adds a poisonous, "Smartass."

Nobody says a thing after that. Taeil stays at the door, unmoving, his boa coiling at his feet; Doyoung picks at the scabbing wound near his mouth, revealing a fresh red scar-to-be; Jaehyun pretends to make notes on the clearly faulty plan they tried to salvage from drowning in a sea of other discarded plans not even five minutes ago. Yuta keeps his eyes on Johnny's, refusing to let go. Taeyong, usually the one to mediate their clashes, turns away.

"I'm sorry," Johnny croaks, voice suddenly hoarse with guilt squeezing at his throat. Then, he repeats it, louder this time, clearer. "I'm sorry."

Yuta scowls and Johnny winces at the sharp tug at his collar, but he lets go when Taeyong calls for their attention. "Apology accepted," he nods, still refusing to meet Johnny's eye. Johnny can't bear looking at him, either.

"Stop defending him, Yong," Yuta's voice is too loud in the awkward silence, resounding in contrast to their whispering. "He doesn't seem to appreciate it."

There is nothing Johnny can say to that. There are no words he could ever use that would sound genuine enough after everything he's done, and that's on him only. _ "I appreciate it, I really do?" _ Such a load of bullshit.

After they are dismissed, Johnny goes down to the kitchen to get some water. He sits at the window - conjured by Jaehyun on their first day of moving in - and looks down at the brick buildings of Donggyo-ro the base was built under. The alleyway is dark and quiet, and the thin layer of snow still holds a set of someone's confident footprints, leading the way out. 

"Hyung?" Johnny still jumps at the soft interruption even if he sensed Jaehyun coming. "Enjoying the view?"

Johnny looks at him briefly when Jaehyun comes up to stand beside him, and then looks back at the street, contemplating. "Too dark for my liking."

The conversation stops there, smothered in the awkwardness of both of them knowing what happened before, until Jaehyun speaks again, turning his back to the window to look at Johnny.

"Yuta-hyung didn't mean it," he tells Johnny, and Johnny could swear he's heard this one somewhere before. 

"He did, though," Johnny smirks, thinking about the overpowering red that is Yuta's aura and the way it caught light in his unnaturally red hair. "And he was absolutely right."

Jaehyun frowns but doesn't argue back. His silence is amusing, so Johnny lets a bitter laugh. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Johnny turns around and reclines against the window sill, touching shoulders with Jaehyun. "So spare me this talk, could you?"

Johnny regrets it the moment the words fall from his lips. He hides his face in his palms, rubbing at the thick skin roughly, and groans. "Just let it rest, Jaehyunie," he says, words muffled. "We have much more important stuff to worry about right now, aside from..."

"To us, you are the most important, hyung," Jaehyun interrupts him before Johnny can finish, and  Johnny feels the remainder of the self-deprecating tirade stuck in his throat at what he says next. "And I think I speak for everyone when I say that all of what happened comes from a place of love and concern."

Even if the drop in Jaehyun's voice sounds too much like the last stretch before crying, he manages to hold it in. "Everyone's worried," he places a tentative hand on Johnny's shoulder, but Johnny's not sure he has the strength to face him just yet. "It's been a year already."

It has been, indeed. Sometimes it feels like no progress has been made at all, and in days like these, it seems like he's fighting a losing battle.

"I'm trying, okay?" Johnny manages finally, and gives Jaehyun's hand on his shoulder a light squeeze. "I truly am."

It seems to be enough. Jaehyun gets up, smoothes the creases on his dress shirt, and leaves, bidding Johnny good night.

Johnny turns to the window again. The footprints from before are hidden under a layer of fresh snow, giving the street a look of uncharted mystery. The streetlight on the tail-end of the alley goes off for the night, leaving only a faint pulsating glow of the infamous Thai place's neon sign. It blinks idly, and Johnny blinks as well, hypnotized. The Sun in the ring on Johnny’s neck adjusts to it, flickering to the uneven beat.

If Johnny doesn't notice a pair of eyes following him from the shadows, it's not for lack of looking. 

 

All of the time that’s not taken by the research is spent on the training grounds after that, as if trying to help the pent up frustration find its release. Johnny pairs up with Yuta every chance he gets, and they smooth out the crack in their relationship over the hours of kicking the shit out of each other. Johnny, who opted to work from a distance since the disaster that was the last battle leading to the Fallout, gets tossed around mercilessly until the muscle memory and years of Academy training kick in together with the self-preservation instinct and he manages to block Yuta’s backfist. At the end of the day, Yuta goes out of his way to help Johnny bandage his wounds, any animosity between them dissolved in the stinging rubbing alcohol.

The group trainings become easier when Kun finally opens the fifth-dimension sector for them, and they spend hours on end in the projected reality which reminds Johnny of their first year after being chosen for Neo City, when every day spent in simulation resulted in a dozen spent in the School’s hospital wing, bonding over a common enemy first and over the sustained injuries later. It lets them get a feel for being an actual group for the first time in months they spent on odd tasks and commissions, and it actually helps boost the team’s morale for once.

Johnny finally lets Nox stay out of the box long enough for her to stop glaring at him every time he gives out a command. They manage to completely renew her stored Flames in the night he spends in the made-up rainforest, and for a moment Johnny thinks that the lockdown has been a good idea - that is, until it’s ten o’clock again, and Neo City meets up for another useless assembly.

By now, Johnny knows better, and he assumes Taeil’s position near the entryway to avoid being an eyesore even though Yuta keeps a chair pulled out for him at all times.

Donghyuck joins them at the proving grounds daily, usually using the excuse of bringing down some water or snacks to not be kicked out right away. Even though it’s been a year, it’s still hard for Johnny to come to terms with him not being a part of their nuclear Family anymore, especially with the way the Ring around his neck threatens to burn his shirt through, eager to reunite with the only rightful owner it’s ever known.

And maybe it’s because it’s genuinely fun, or because Johnny has always had the softest of spots for Hyuck, but his training takes up a lot of Johnny’s time as well, much to Doyoung’s annoyance. “Focus, Johnny,” he says when the training schedule finally brings them one on one, dodging Johnny’s lunge and driving his old and dulled down, but nonetheless real knife right underneath Johnny’s ribs. 

Johnny sinks down heavily, pressing a hand to his side. It doesn’t bleed, despite the force of the impact and the piercing sharp pain; his shirt is intact, too, which is a miracle in itself, yet Johnny feels utterly defeated - if not by this momentary loss, then by Doyoung’s success in bringing his attention back to the task at hand. 

“We all love Hyuck, Johnny,” he says, and reaches out a hand to help Johnny up, “and believe me, he’s gonna be okay, now or a year from now - it doesn’t matter. What really matters is, however, is that Taeyong needs you.”

_ Ah, _ Johnny frowns, vexed,  _ here it is, again. _ The words that always get him running back, be it an hour flight from a three-day mission in Japan, or  half of the world journey back after a month he’s spent in Chicago following the Fallout. 

_ Taeyong needs him. _

Johnny ignores Doyoung’s outstretched hand and gets up heavily, favoring his right side. A smile finds its way to his lips, but it’s bitter and crooked. “Bullshit,” he spits out what has been gnawing at him for all this time. 

It’s easier to resist Doyoung’s push now that his physique gives him a visible advantage. Johnny crowds him against the wall and whispers so that nobody else can hear his truth. “We both know Taeyong would be better off without me.”

The words seem to take Doyoung aback. His eyes widen for a brief second, and then a deep line cuts through his forehead in a concerned frown. “You don’t actually believe that, do you,” he says, losing the question mark at the end as if the confidence of this statement could conceal the doubt in his eyes - Johnny sees him right through.

“Stop pretending like this,” he clasps a hand over his chest where, under his shirt and uniform vest, the Sun ring was trying to burn a hole in his skin, “is not my fault.”

Doyoung puts a hand over Johnny’s, giving it a light squeeze. 

“It’s not, though,” he says, “you made a lot of bad decisions, sure, but this is not your fault.”

Johnny wants to believe him. He would've believed him if he wasn’t there the day it happened. Still, he gives in - if only to placate the wound up Doyoung.

"What do you want from me?" He rubs a sweaty palm across his tired eyes. The red of his eyelids turns blue, soothing, and when Johnny looks back up he's not as angry anymore. 

"I want you to focus, Johnny," Doyoung replies simply, eloquently bringing the conversation to its end.

“Hey, you two!” Yuta yells from across the hall, his voice echoing off of the stapled metal of the walls. “What are you chirping about over there, lovebirds? Get your asses over here, we still haven’t finished with the V Formations!”

For some reason, even if Yuta has been a part of the reason for Johnny’s uneasiness ever since their mission has started, it’s this intensity and earnestness that makes Johnny feel human again. He lets out a sigh of laughter, relieved, at how Doyoung’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance, and gives his shoulder a tight squeeze before going away first.

 

Donghyuck manages to open his box on the nineteenth day of February. It happens early in the morning when Hyuck, his hair a mess and eyes still puffy with residual sleep, sits down near the coffee machine in the kitchen and plays with the box mindlessly while Johnny makes them Americano ahead of their usual training. 

“Sometimes I think I can hear him,” Hyuck mumbles, cheek smushed against the tabletop. “He barks at me.”

Johnny grins at the pout lacing his words, and adds some more caramel to Hyuck’s cup when the stagnant air shifts, picking up all sounds and shutting them off before it comes back all at once. 

Hyuck's blood-curdling scream deafening, and Johnny intuitively reaches for him through the blinding light to cover him from the supernova explosion in the middle of their tiny kitchen. 

Johnny takes Hyuck's face into his palms and looks at him, caressing his cheeks gently with the soothing Rain covering his hands, but it doesn't really help - the burnt skin still peels away in ugly strands, revealing the flesh underneath. His seared off eyebrows are drawn together, and his eyes are open wide in terror, searching Johnny's face frantically, and Johnny, his heart heavy, sighs before reaching his palm over to cover them, 

The Rain pours in Johnny’s head, surging forward in the smell of close water, fresh grass, wet asphalt. The blue sea splashes restlessly, and Johnny drowns Donghyuck in it, absolving Donghyuck of pain at last. 

A tiny fox sprints around them in the flames of dying yellow light, before disappearing completely as Donghyuck's body goes limp in Johnny's hands.

Seulgi is back in Osaka already, so they have to call Amber in to fix Hyuck's face. It doesn't take long before his sunburnt skin is replaced by his usual sunkissed tan, but Johnny keeps him under for a bit longer, afraid of what might happen after - an impact like this has robbed Donghyuck of his Flames before, and there was no way to ensure it won't happen again now.

Donghyuck, however, is resilient and, if anything, has become immune to Johnny’s influence over the years - he startles awake, drawing a shaky breath, and takes a brief look around before falling back onto the soft infirmary pillows. 

Then, he asks about Lux.

"What? Who?" Mark asks, his voice breaking over all his worry. He catches Donghyuck's hand mid-wave, and Donghyuck entwines their fingers, squeezing lightly, probably still too sleepy to properly control his limbs.

"Lux," he muses. "Like Yongho-hyung's Nox, just... Lux, you know?"

Mark turns around, sending Johnny a quizzical look, but Johnny doesn't see it. He looks at Hyuck intently, trying to figure out if he’s sleep talking or serious. He seems pretty serious, at least as far as Donghyucks go.

Johnny stays back, feet heavy. "You remember?" 

"Duh!" Hyuck scoffs. "It's burned into my retinas!"

And laughs, the sound of it sunny and light.

 

His phone rings when Johnny barely reaches his own room. He knows it's Sehun because his internal clock has been counting the hours until he's back in Seoul and today was the last day of calm before he would've inevitably started worrying.

"We might have a lead for your Seven Birds case," Sehun says, and it's not what Johnny has expected, but it's what he'll have to work with.

Busy with the shipments, Sehun sends Chanyeol in. Chanyeol takes time to catch up with everyone before Johnny gets ahold of him and drags him into the cursed meeting room for a talk. It's pathetically empty, and Johnny speaks before the weight of his own insecurities could get the best of him.

"And we are taking the Birds on again because?.." He leaves the end of the sentence open for Chanyeol to fill in, which he's quick to jump on.

"Because they want to centralize Numero again, obviously," he says, happy about it for some reason. The explanation does nothing to explain the joy in his voice, but he continues before Johnny can ask any more questions. "After the fall of the original Guardians, the Tenth was the only one keeping the Numero afloat. Ironically enough, he was the one who also kept all of them separated - for whatever reason, right?"

Johnny thinks back to the endless pile of documents and folders they've gathered on all minor Families and people more or less associated with Numero any point in the past ten years; thinks about the Seven Birds who split Neo City in two, about Twice who dared to covet the Alliance's assets, about the Saturday who decidedly kept to themselves, and all the others who shared the loud name and never once a cup of coffee; thinks if everything would’ve been different if it weren’t for Ten. 

“I suppose,” Johnny frowns, noticing Chanyeol’s inspecting gaze.

Chanyeol nods. “Their Tenth helps you with your unfinished Fallout business, you help him keep Numero in check. Everyone wins!”

The plan doesn’t sound plausible when it’s condensed into a terse one-liner like that, even if Chanyeol’s confidence is pleasantly reassuring. Like most of the plans they’ve come up until now, it lacks the key detail - the fact that their true goal is keeping Ten with Neo City, and not the vengeance for old wrongs. He says that much. 

“If we help him with Numero, it will just keep the connection we want severed. We need him here, Yeol.”

_ Our Sun _ , Johnny hears Doyoung say, and he sees Taeyong nod.

Chanyeol shrugs, scratching at his cheek absentmindedly, and only breaks the silence to state the obvious, “You’ll just have to give him the Family he’s lost then.” 

This idea, voiced at last after being danced around for so long, is the last straw that breaks Johnny’s composure. He sinks down on the chair and hides his face in his hands already burning with blue to calm the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat.

“God, have you seen us?” Johnny chuckles, the sound of it anything but happy. “We are barely a Family to each other, what are you talking about?”

A year has passed since the battle that went down in their shared history as the Fallout. The name sounded too dramatic for all members of their organization to be calling it this way, but the split in a Major Family could never be regarded as anything less. In reality, Mark left first. Donghyuck was forced to leave. It was Johnny’s fault - not that anyone has ever dared to say that to his face, of course, - and things went downhill from there. With the only thing keeping them together being Doyoung’s constant guilt-tripping, Johnny does not believe there is anybody who would want to stay.

The silence that fills the space between them is loaded with all the unspoken things Johnny left out. 

“Wouldn’t that be a great opportunity to rebuild what’s been broken?” Chanyeol asks at last, and it’s almost word for word what he’s said when they took Johnny out of the final line-up for the External Operations team. It hurts, but the feeling is immediately washed over by the tranquilizing waves, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What do I know,” Johnny turns away, “about rebuilding things.”

Chanyeol, of course, does not remember that conversation, and he, of course, does not get the bitter reference. 

“I don’t recognize you anymore, Johnny,” Chanyeol tells him in earnest, and Johnny ignores it, decidedly not letting it get to him again. 

“So what are we doing now?” He asks instead, remembering the real reason of Chanyeol’s visit.

It seems like the intervention is what Chanyeol wanted, as well. He jumps on the topic, laying the key points on paper. “Two years ago I helped a girl in Australia, so she got me in contact with Lalisa as thanks.”

Johnny whistles. Major family, very famous in business, hard to get to - nothing is out of reach for SM’s Externals, indeed.

“She is willing to keep you informed about the Seven Birds.”

This is a first. Numero people have never been exceptionally talkative, and even considering their segregated nature it was very hard to find a person who’d talk. They went in completely blind the first time they faced the Birds after they took Yuta’s sisters, and having an informant now felt strange; Johnny’s intuition screams danger, and even if it’s never been one of his strong suits he trusts it on this one.

“Why would she have anything on them?” He asks, suspicious. “They’ve been in Thailand, hiding for like a year already, haven’t they?”

Chanyeol points at him, a smile forming at his lips anew. “Bingo!” He says. “Thailand is key here. Apparently, she grew up with their Mist guy.”

This piece of information doesn’t make Johnny particularly happy. Where it sounded suspicious before, now it doesn’t make sense at all for Lalisa to be betraying the Snake in this way. Johnny grew up with Chanyeol, and he wouldn’t go around running his mouth, even for a reward. 

“What’s in it for her?” He asks, fully ready to move this plan into the pile of the implausible ones together with the dozens that were rejected before. 

What Chanyeol says after, though, makes him reconsider. “Nobody wants Numero back to their former glory, Johnny.”

Johnny calls Lalisa after Chanyeol has already left. The fancy card he was given smells faintly of Mist, but the numbers scribbled in an uneven purple pen on the bottom appear when Johnny sets the work phone aside and takes his personal one instead.

The regular monotone signal stops after the third beep. The silence changes as if having switched tonality, and for a moment all Johnny sees is miles of ocean waves underneath and the gold of temples hidden in all of the green. 

It stretches, and Johnny fears he'd have to speak first, but Lalisa answers quickly. They don’t bother with the formal greetings, exchanging ciphers and getting to the matter at hand right away. 

Lalisa speaks fast, her perfect Gyeonggi dialect sounding a lot like Yuta’s, and Johnny finds himself relaxing a little at her bright voice. She reveals the connection she has to the targets, emphasizing the Snake, and runs Johnny down the list of some of their characteristics she finds important. 

"If you want to know more about Ten, however," she continues, unprompted, and that's when Johnny knows Chanyeol's told them everything about their dire situation, "you've got the wrong person. Everyone knows about him back home, but nobody actually knows him."

"Thanks," Johnny can't help the bitter laugh, "that's extremely helpful."

Lalisa doesn't take his jab to heart. "Well," she doesn’t miss a beat, and Johnny respects the professional attitude, "I've only been commissioned to get the word about your mission out, so take it or leave it.

“I’ll be keeping you posted,” she continues. “They have been preparing for a while now, so your timing is perfect, actually.”

Johnny snickers at Lalisa’s obvious enthusiasm. Maybe Chanyeol was right.

“Ten should already know about you by now, Neo City. I haven’t seen him in Bangkok, and I believe he hasn’t left Seoul since December, so I think you’ll be hearing from him soon enough.”

Her tone doesn’t change, but it still sounds somewhat ominous, and Johnny feels the anxious pang drive a nail under his ribs. “Thank you, Lalisa,” he takes a deep breath and sets his notebook aside, flicking the lights in the room off.

“Just Lisa is fine,” Johnny hears her smile. “Talk to you later!”

 

The staircase drops at a sharp angle, and Johnny has to hold onto the railing to avoid falling down the abyss underneath. He listens closely, but the loud sound of his steps on the rusty metal is the only thing he hears since he’s left Yuta in the main corridor and turned the corner what feels like a hundred flights of stairs ago. 

_ Nothing. _

Despite Johnny’s expectations, the air becomes drier and warmer the lower he gets, and he wonders for a second if the boiler room is close before his focus shifts to the lamps blinking awake with a soft yellow glow when Johnny finally reaches the bottom. He puts the flashlight out, preserving the energy, and follows the chain towards the only exit from the pit. 

The corridor is long and impersonal; Johnny loses track of how long he’s been walking in the monotone gold of the lights reflecting from the shiny metal of the walls, and it’s both unnerving and somnolent at the same time. Hundreds of feet underground and now far, far from the entry point, he walks confidently beyond the limits of the tenth downmost sector of the hideout marked on his map, ready to face whatever the end of the tunnel brings.

There is no end to this tunnel, however. The lights above his head still shine with an even warmth, the polished walls still mirror it back, the heat still rises, and it’s not until Johnny decides there’s no point in walking further when everything changes.

The extinct lights keep dancing in purple and green before his eyes when he turns back, the impenetrable darkness almost palpable. It clings to his skin, sticky and hot, and Johnny tries to wash it off with the Rain, but the chain on his neck tightens in warning, blocking the air. The Rain dissipates with a pitiful spark of blue as Johnny coughs, desperately trying to keep focus, but there’s no beginning and no end to this pitch-black tunnel, so Johnny just runs, keeping his right hand on the wall - for purchase, if not for guidance. Behind him, where his fingers touch the warm surface, the metal yields and comes apart at the seams, the screws keeping the plates together streaming down in molten tears of gold,  and then it rushes to the surface - scorching, furious, - crackling in the newfound freedom. 

_ Let me out, Johnny,  _ it begs, and Johnny almost surrenders: he knows his weaknesses, and he knows he's never stood a chance, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, and the idea of giving up to save his life seems all too tempting to resist. He still tries his best.

He knows that, no matter what, it will not hurt him. It gave no promises of not hurting anyone else, though, so Johnny runs, runs to escape the scalding embrace, runs until his lungs give out, all air burnt out of them. 

Each step echoes in Johnny’s body with a distant ache of a healing burn. His clothes cling to the irritated skin unpleasantly, and the bulletproof vest he's wearing does nothing to alleviate any of it. It pushes the ring into his chest, and the ring sears into his skin readily, taking root in his heart.

Johnny keeps running in a last-ditch effort to get away from it, but the gold flows into his bloodstream already, viscid and hot, and the unbearable pain takes Johnny out before he reaches the exit. 

 

Johnny only understands he's not sleeping when he's already in the hallway, bare feet against the cold stone of the floors, the drawn-out wail of the alarm following him in the echo of empty corridors. He doesn't have time to process what's happening, but his body is on the move already, the adrenaline rushing him forward and up the stairs, to where the danger signal is coming from. 

His watch glows in uniform orange. Code orange has always stood for Taeyong. 

It takes him less than a minute to navigate the labyrinth, but when Johnny runs into the common room, Taeyong is there alone. 

From the first glance, he looks unharmed, and it brings a sigh of relief out of Johnny, but he only manages a confused "Why?" before metal touches his neck from the side, the edge of it so undeniably sharp that even the light graze makes the hairs on Johnny's neck rise at the very real danger he didn't really comprehend until now.

He should’ve known better. 

"Oh, we have company? At this hour? How fun," a voice says, the mocking smile in it unnerving, setting off the fight-or-flight in Johnny's system. 

He doesn't feel any foreign presence in the room beside him and Taeyong's familiar flames, but the enemy - and their undeniable malicious intent - is too real to be projected. 

Johnny looks at Taeyong, but Taeyong only shakes his head, his expression unreadable, so Johnny stays put, for now, his senses on the highest alert.

"Nice dog, Mr. Boss!" Johnny feels the metal of the blade slide forward, the dangerous proximity burning already but not quite breaking the skin yet. He could dodge it, duck to the left and down, and then kick the person behind him off their feet before his opponent gets a chance to regroup, but another blade - spiked this time - pushes into his nape right where the hairline meets the neck, and Johnny instantly knows that any careless movement might cost him his life.

"Such a good boy," the joy in the voice behind him is obvious, and the metal, warm now from the contact with Johnny's heated skin, tickles his neck almost affectionately. "Mind if I take him?"

Taeyong avoids Johnny's gaze again, looking through him and onto the assailant instead, the gaze impassive - deliberately so. "I don't," he allows easily - it’s too easy, in fact, for Johnny to completely buy it - and adds, "shall we negotiate the conditions?"

Johnny doesn't expect this to be the end, but the blade relents, and only Taeyong's audible shaky exhale brings him out of the stupor of the sudden freedom. Johnny jumps aside, giving way to the person behind him, but he knows who that is before he can actually see them.

Ten is every little bit like the person they’ve spent a month looking at in the pictures, and not at all at the same time. His posture gives away a life spent battle training, and his movements speak of its deadliness; he manages to look down on both of them even if he is barely Taeyong’s height, but his chest is broader and it fits the larger than life air Ten has about him. The glaive he’s holding faces blade down, almost casually, but Johnny doesn’t release the grip on the poignard hidden up his sleeve until Ten snaps its shaft and folds it into the fixture on his back.

“So I’ve heard you needed me,” he says, and nears Taeyong. His presence is imposing, and Johnny notices Taeyong fold his arms in an attempt to distance himself when Ten comes close. 

“We did,” he nods and looks at Johnny momentarily before challenging Ten again. “We do.”

Ten grins. “Tell me more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's finally here!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mugentekiga) or come and scream at me on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/mugentekiga).  
> Any comment is greatly appreciated!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Отрастёт](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986380) by [bazarova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazarova/pseuds/bazarova)
  * [stand by you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986464) by [bazarova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazarova/pseuds/bazarova)




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